


Nonverbal Cues

by Shaples



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Canon Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaples/pseuds/Shaples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abe is pretty sure there's something wrong with Mihashi, but he can't quite put his finger on what. </p><p>Or: If I stare at him long enough, maybe I'll figure out my feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nonverbal Cues

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little ficlet in a fit of feels immediately after binging season 2 of the anime and right before ravenously devouring the manga in its entirety. So, it takes place nebulously post canon for the anime, but I think still fits with the manga - probably during a practice game sometime after the Newcomer's Tournament but before the Fall Tournament (you know, for people who think about these things :D)

“Does Mihashi seem off to you?”

Tajima didn’t bother looking up from retying his shoelaces, “What do you mean, off?”

Abe frowned, staring across the field. Mihashi was on deck, waiting for his turn to bat. He was fidgeting nervously, more than usual, the color high in his cheeks like it had been every time Abe had caught his eye all day. It reminded him of their first game against Tosei, and he found himself frowning at the thought. “I’m worried he’s overpacing himself again.”

Tajima stood up and followed Abe’s gaze out toward Mihashi, “Really? He seems fine to me.”

Mihashi’s eyes drifted up from the batter he was supposed to be watching and met Abe’s, like he could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Mihashi glanced away quickly, like he was trying to hide it, but Abe could tell something was off. “Look,” Abe said, nodding subtly toward Mihashi, “He’s all red in the face, and he looks like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.” Abe glanced over at Tajima, waiting for a confirmation of his suspicions, but found Tajima giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. “What?”

Tajima just grinned and gave him a friendly slap on the back, “I think you’re overthinking it.”

Overthinking? Overthinking what? Abe turned his gaze back to Mihashi, and their eyes met again for just a second before Mihashi glanced away. “I dunno, he seems…”

Tajima clapped him on the back again, “Don’t worry about it, Abe. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Abe nodded vaguely, watching as Tajima headed out to take over as first base coach and Mihashi moved up to the plate to bat. They were playing a great game – the whole team, but Mihashi especially; he’d been tearing through the opposing lineup with hardly a wasted pitch, and he’d kept them from scoring a single run. Though at first Abe was reluctant to admit it, their battery had markedly improved once Mihashi started (very occasionally) shaking off his signs. It had been just like Mihashi had said – like they were talking to each other across the empty space between them. Given how difficult it was for them to actually talk face to face, that simple dialogue had become invaluable. Mihashi’s batting had improved steadily, too, and once he’d sent a glance toward Mizutani on third base, the jitters smoothed out and his stance turned fluid.

It was still something of a surprise to see Mihashi as at ease on the plate as he was on the mound, but Abe decided he liked it. This state of calm suited him, though he could rarely muster it outside of a game. Mihashi almost looked like a different person when his eyes steadied and fixed on one thing, when his features relaxed and his body went still. It was the way he looked when he pitched, but it was different watching him from the sidelines, with that intensity focused on someone else.

Mihashi hit a clean grounder and made it to first base just as Mizutani slid home. Abe let out a cheer with the rest of the team, but found his eyes still stuck on Mihashi. Mihashi, who was looking calmer and more collected than he had since Abe had cornered him to double check his gym bag that morning before they got on the bus. When Izumi stepped up to the plate to bat, Tajima jogged over to Mihashi and started talking to him behind a raised glove. Abe only realized his eyes were _still_ on his pitcher when a calm, composed Mihashi turned and looked his way. This time, it was Abe who broke the gaze, glancing away like those golden eyes had burned him – and what was _that_ about? His face was suddenly and inexplicably hot, like he’d been caught at something, though his worrying over Mihashi’s wellbeing was hardly a secret.

By the time he managed to look back up, Tajima was gone and Mihashi was watching Izumi. Abe glanced at the scoreboard to check the count, and… how had he missed Izumi’s first two swings? His third hit connected, but popped up into a fly ball, and just like that, the fifth inning was over, the other team’s cheers nearly drowning out the chorus of “don’t mind!” coming from the dugout.

They had a little down time for ground maintenance, so instead of heading straight for his gear, Abe waited just outside the dugout. As Mihashi jogged over toward him, Abe prepared himself mentally. “Non-Threatening Abe” was still a work in progress, but seeing the easy way that Tajima and Mihashi communicated always made him more determined to try. Patient and calm had never really been Abe’s forte, let alone quiet, but the effort to make himself soft and gentle almost always proved worthwhile. When Mihashi came up alongside him, Abe put on his friendliest smile and asked, “You feeling alright?”

Mihashi jolted with surprise, like Abe hadn’t been standing right there the whole time, and suddenly calm, cool Mihashi was gone, replaced by flustered baby bird Mihashi, who couldn’t seem to find a comfortable place to look. “I- I- I… F-f-fi.”

Abe sighed, not quite sure what he’d done wrong this time. They had gotten better at this, bit by bit, but they still had a long way to go. Abe was optimistic that if they both kept working at it, they might be able to reliably trade full sentences by the end of their third year, but until then, he had to settle for the next best thing. Abe held his hand up, and Mihashi stilled, pressing their palms together. Mihashi’s face was flushed, but his hand wasn’t as cold as Abe expected it to be. In fact, it was warm and dry, warmer than his own, and he couldn’t help but look at their joined hands in surprise. Mihashi’s calluses were rough and familiar against his palm, but the feeling of Mihashi being calmer than he was during a game was strange and alien.

“I-is… Abe-kun.. o-ok-?”

The question floored him, filling him with a surge of emotion that was unexpected and intense. He did his best not to show it. “I’m fine,” he said reflexively, pushing away the unfamiliar feeling of someone _else_ worrying over _him_. “You look hot, though. You should change your shirt and drink something, take in some calories.”

Mihashi nodded a little too quickly, then hastily started unbuttoning his shirt.

Abe felt the heat rush to his face, and before he could think better of it, he shouted, “Not _here_!” Mihashi flinched, his fingers freezing in place as he looked up at Abe with wide eyes. Abe put his hands on Mihashi’s shoulders and guided him away from the entrance to the dugout and down into the locker area in back, where at the very least he wouldn’t be stripping in front of the entire stadium. It was probably overkill - they all usually just changed behind the bench - but Mihashi’s simple question was still burning in his head, and Abe had to admit, he needed a minute to pull himself together. “I’ll go get you some water,” he said, making a conscious effort to keep his voice quiet and even before hastily retreating.

Abe dawdled around the cooler, filling a cup of water and drinking it down slowly once, and then a second time. To give Mihashi time to change, he told himself. He’d just started to fill the cup a third time when he forced himself to consider Mihashi’s question. _Was_ he okay? It seemed silly on the surface – of course he was, why wouldn’t he be? But when he caught his eyes wandering over toward where Mihashi usually changed, Abe had to admit that, no, he wasn’t okay. His head wasn’t really in the game; he’d been distracted all day, worrying about Mihashi. But in that game against Tosei, everyone had been worried; everyone had seen that something was wrong right away. Today, though…

Was he seeing something that wasn’t there?

He looked back to where Mihashi still wasn’t, just in time to see Tajima heading up the stairs out of the locker area. “You got that water yet, Abe?”

“Er, right.” Abe set down his own cup and filled a second one with water, then headed past Tajima and down the stairs, expecting to find Mihashi dressed and ready to go.

He wasn’t.

Mihashi’s jersey was spread out on the bench next to him, but he had only just started to pull up his black undershirt, slowly revealing the long, elegant line of his back, pale skin standing out sharply against the dark fabric. Abe let out a small, strangled sound, and Mihashi turned to look back, shirt bunched up around his shoulders. For a moment, Abe was sure Mihashi would squawk and scramble back into his shirt, disintegrate into apologies, but he didn’t. He just stayed glancing back over his shoulder, shirt not quite all the way off, his golden eyes fixed on Abe like he was waiting for a sign.

Abe heard the sound of something hitting the floor, and realized the cup of water had fallen out of his hand. He started to drop down to pick it up, but stopped half way when Mihashi shifted, drawing Abe’s attention back to him. Mihashi sat up straighter as he pulled the shirt up and over his head, the muscles in his back flexing subtly as he escaped the slightly too tight shirt and tossed it aside. Abe was transfixed. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Mihashi changing, not by a long shot, but he realized that it was maybe the first time he had really _looked_. Mihashi had gotten stronger in the last year, but he was still lean and delicate looking, broad shoulders he hadn’t quite grown into tapering down to slim hips. His back was dusted with freckles and slick with sweat, his pale flesh just slightly rosy.

Something shifted, like the first time Abe had really held Mihashi’s hand - the first time he’d felt Mihashi’s calluses, the first time he’d recognized Mihashi as a person and not just a pitcher, the first time he'd glimpsed the effort and determination and drive that lived beneath his skittish exterior. Abe found himself wanting to touch again, wondering if the simple contact of skin on skin would work the same miracle twice, whether it would help him understand whatever it was that he was looking for every time his eyes wandered to Mihashi. He’d stepped forward, closing the distance between them before he had time to think through what he was doing. His hand made it to Mihashi’s back before the warning bells made it to his brain, his fingertips sliding smoothly over Mihashi’s skin. Abe traced the slim line of Mihashi’s spine, following it down between the thin, sharp points of his shoulder blades all the way to the dip at the small of his back.

Mihashi shivered beneath his touch, and Abe started to pull away, eyes going wide as thought caught up with motion and he realized what he’d just done. But Mihashi turned and grabbed onto Abe’s wrist, his grip strong and tight, stopping him from moving an inch. Then he pulled, forcing Abe to sit down on the bench next to him.

Their eyes met, but neither one of them looked away. It felt like it was like he was seeing – really _seeing_ – a Mihashi he hadn’t even realized existed. Mihashi, who was beautiful. Mihashi, who was open and lovely, trusting and confident – if not in himself, then in the alchemy between them. Mihashi, who relied on him and would never hurt him or discard him. Mihashi, whose flitting golden eyes bore steadily into Abe’s, pinning him to the spot. Mihashi, who he lov-

Oh.

Abe felt heat rush into his face and tore his eyes away from this new Mihashi, who had been there all along. Who he had been staring at all day. Maybe for a lot longer than just today. Mihashi, who was probably really freaked out by-

Then Mihashi’s grip loosened on Abe’s wrist, and his hand slid down to twine their fingers together. Abe looked up, only to find Mihashi wearing the same dusky pink blush he’d been scrutinizing all day, his eyes turned away shyly. His blonde hair was mussed from pulling his shirt off, and Abe reached up instinctively, thumbing a drop of sweat off Mihashi’s cheek before carding his fingertips through his hair, gently taming the wild strands. Mihashi's hair was soft, maybe a little damp with sweat, and his eyes went half-lidded as Abe touched him, a quiet, contented sound escaping his lips.

That tiny moan drew Abe in like a lure, dazzling and irresistible. But he stopped just short, so close he could feel Mihashi’s breath on his lips, and looked up into his eyes, questioning. Then Mihashi nodded. It was just the barest tip of his head, but between them that nod meant more than yes; it meant trust and partnership; it was words that didn’t need to be spoken, and faith that they were understood.

Abe’s fingers slid through Mihashi’s hair, cupping the back of his head and drawing him forward, closing the last breath of space between them and pressing their lips together. Mihashi’s mouth was soft and inviting, warm and eager. There was nothing tentative in the way he returned the kiss, tipping his head to one side to bring them closer together. Mihashi’s toughened fingertips grazed lightly along the side of Abe’s neck, and Abe drew back with a soft gasp and a shiver. When he looked up, Mihashi’s eyes were still closed, but a small smile passed over his lips as he whispered, “Takaya.”

Abe groaned, and before he knew it, he was kissing Mihashi again, wanting to taste his name on his pitcher’s lips, to snatch that beautiful sound from the air and hold it in the breath passed between them, and, shit, he was maybe crying, just a little bit, but it didn’t matter, because Mihashi’s hands were in his hair, and Mihashi’s tongue was drawing a hot line along his upper lip, and _how had it taken him so long to see_?

He broke away finally, breathless, and wrapped his arms around Mihashi’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug and panting down into his soft, blonde hair. When Mihashi’s hands ghosted along his sides, then wrapped around to hold him just as tight, Abe felt another surge of emotion, and his voice came out a little choked, quiet against Mihashi’s scalp, “Ren…”

He wanted this moment to last forever.

Then, from somewhere way too close, he heard Hanai shout, “Hey, has anyone seen Abe and Mihashi?” He jerked back involuntarily, the sudden realization hammering into him that they were in the middle of a _game_ , that he wasn’t wearing his _gear_ and his eyes were probably all _red_ , and Mihashi was _half naked_ and looking…

…Mihashi was looking both well and thoroughly ravaged and like he was about to start crying, and what, why, what? But, oh, they’d just, and then he’d…

He leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to Mihashi’s lips, thumbing his cheek again to stave off the tears, and for once, he didn’t have to force softness into his voice, “It’s okay. I’m happy.”

“Y… yo… not.. em..emb…?”

Mihashi wouldn’t meet his eyes, but for once, Abe understood perfectly. Abe shook his head. “Are you?”

Mihashi shook his head almost frantically, then looked up, finally facing Abe, his voice surprisingly clear and steady, his smile radiant and uninhibited, “I… I’m happy, too.”

Abe found himself smiling right back, “Then let’s go out there and win. Together.”

“T-together,” Mihashi repeated, determined. Like it was a promise.

Abe reached down and pulled a clean shirt out of Mihashi’s bag and tossed it to him, “Come on, you still need to rehydrate, and I need help with my gear.”

“R-right!”

**Author's Note:**

> Before they go back on the field, Mihashi gives Fairy Godmother/Seduction Coach Tajima the tiniest, most heartfelt high five of all time, Sakaeguchi gives Hanai a couple Advil, and Mizutani collects his winnings from the betting pool. Abe thinks no one knows.
> 
> Come cry with me about baseball boys. theshannonlewis on twitter and tumblr


End file.
